NieR: HameLin
by LycorisMeoro
Summary: 5 years have passed since the ShadowLord was defeated. Humanity has begun to die off, Shades and RepliCants alike. Yonah and her father have lived peacefully in the village despite the decline, until the day he goes missing. Yonah must now take up arms and join with old and new friends to rescue her father from a mysterious new threat. Post Ending B.


Prologue

It was approximately 3:00 pm on June 12, 2003 when the creatures appeared in the sky. One of them, an enormous red dragon with what appeared to be a rider, fell to the hands of the Japanese military. The other, only described as a "Giant" dissolved into nothing. No one knew this would be the moment that would drive humanity into Armageddon.

I was created 18 years, 9 months, 2 days, and 6 hours after the Shinjuku Incident. I, with my many sisters, was built to be the caretaker of the new world. But they didn't want me. They did not want me. I had a fatal flaw, a malfunction. I was not kind. They did not want me.

They reprogrammed me. I was given heavy armor, sharp blades, and an artificial rage that could not be controlled by my own processors. I was sent into the world with the power to destroy. The relapsed Gestalts were becoming a threat to the Grimoire Noir project. My mission was clean up.

They dropped me on Shinjuku 17 years, 3 months, 17 days, and 3 hours following my creation. I was given specific orders to destroy the Gestalts surrounding a particular super market, however to not harm any whole life forms existing inside. One of the life forms was the "Original Gestalt."

After being deployed from the helicopter, my sensory was activated, followed by my movements, then my rage. I tore through the hoard of relapsed Gestalts surrounding me at a speed comparable to that of light. The runes in the air evaporated in seconds, each of the beings screaming in agony.

My deathly sharp claws eviscerated every last maso-dripping spirit, cleanly slicing through the material souls. I did not think. There was no time; my mind was devoted to the operation. In approximately 4 minutes and 18 seconds, I arrived at the location. It was swarming with relapsed Gestalts, each of whom I ripped through with ease. The air was thick with the falling maso. I watched as it added to the heaps already covering the ground.

Apparently, this was similar to what was once known as "snow" in the old world. It was a substance that was created from the condensation of water, freezing and falling on to the Earth during the winter months. This was the comparison I often heard. However, maso was not cold. Maso was deadly. It was what dissolved from the Giant 35 years, 9 months, 6 days, 9 hours ago. It caused the widespread of the White Chlorination Syndrome, which eventually led to humanity's downfall.

I scaled the wall to the super market, the sound of my claws scraping against the cement screeching in my artificial eardrums. The roof was a good vantage point, I could use my sensory functions to scope out the majority of the remaining Gestalts. I positioned myself and gazed over the dead cityscape. They appeared to be gathering here, presumably because they were unwillingly drawn to the Original Gestalt. I calculated the best possible plan of attack, beginning preparations for my assault.

"Dad?" a young, meek voice sounded from below me, inside the supermarket. I determined it was a female, about 10 years, 3 months old. I was surprised. In the mission briefing, there was no mention of children. The child began to cough, I could tell from her voice she was infected with WCS.

"You alright, Yonah?" a much older male voice sounded. 39 years old. This was her father. The Original Gestalt.

"Sorry, Dad… I'm sorry. It'll stop in a second. I promise," followed by more wheezing, "If the monsters hear me, are they… are they gonna come back for me?"

The innocent girl had no idea of the circumstance surrounding her. Her father had most likely sheltered her up to this point.

"I won't let them hurt you, Yonah. I promise," The Original Gestalt spoke again.

She continued to cough, her condition appearing to worsen. The Original Gestalt began to walk away, firmly telling her to "Not touch that book, not ever." I assumed he was referring to one of the copies of Grimoire Noir he had received. I knew all too well that she would relapse instantly upon contact with the book.

I followed his movements, listening as he approached the front of the store. My keen sensory function could calculate his exact steps through the concrete roof. I peeked over the front edge of the supermarket, analyzing his appearance. 185cm tall. White hair (as all peole In this age had, due to people with White Chlorination Syndrome breeding). Clothed head to toe in thick winter garments to protect from the falling maso. He was wielding a long thin iron pipe, presumably to help fend off the relapsed Gestalts.

I watched as he struggled to defeat the bleeding spirits, roaring threats at them to stay away from his daughter. He was quickly kicked aside. I did not help him. I was not to reveal myself to the Original Gestalt. It was part of the mission.

He slowly crawled on the cement towards a small object, another copy of Grimoire Noir. He was being tempted by the book, it would give him more power to protect his daughter. As the Original Gestalt, he would not relapse when touching it, but gain the power of the Sealed Verses, the maso-created "spells" that were planned to return the Gestalts to their respective Replicants when the threat of WCS was eliminated.

He touched it.

I got a call on my communications system. My mission had been completed. The Original Gestalt had begun the process. Humanity would be reborn. The World Purification Organization had succeeded in setting the table for a new world.

They praised me. I had kept enough Gestalts at bay for the opportune moment to come when The Original Gestalt would place his hands on the book. I was confused, I had done almost nothing.

They told me that they would retrieve me in a matter of minutes at the drop off site. My confusion quickly became anger. This was my flaw. Or rather, theirs. I began to race in the opposite direction of the retrieval point, jumping off the side of the supermarket and landing claws first into a bleeding Gestalt. My anger grew and grew, ripping and tearing at the figures around me. I could still hear The Original Gestalt in the distance, fighting with just as much vigor.

Another message came in. "Dragoon Model 00 has mal-functioned. Commencing shutdown." I could not be stopped. My back legs began to deactivate, but I attempted to crawl. This effort was fruitless, there was no traction in this maso-littered environment. Second by second more of my core was shut down, until all that was left of my functioning was my basic sensory. I opened my eyes to the white sky, hearing the relapsed Gestalts approach my body.

"Final Shutdown in 3.."  
>Maso fell on my face. It hindered my vision.<p>

"2…"

My rage function was gone.

"1."

They did not want me.


End file.
